No Prince Had Lived In

He Longed For The Deep As She Longed For The Night Sky And For White Lilies Floating On Water -- Although She Still Tried To Convince Herself That Love Alone Could Feed Her Soul.

From The Tower Battlements, Dustfinger Looked Down On A Lake As Black As Night, Where The Reflection Of The Castle Swam In A Sea Of Stars. The Wind Passing Over His Unscarred Face Was Cold From The Snow Of The Surrounding Mountains, And Dustfinger Relished Life As If He Were Tasting It For The First Time. The Longing It Brought, And The Desire. All The Bitterness, All The Sweetness, Even If It Was Only For A While, Never For More Than A While, Everything Gained And Lost, Lost And Found Again.

You Can Not Fully Read A Book Without Being Alone. But Through This Very Solitude You Become Intimately Involved With People Whom You Might Never Have Met Otherwise, Either Because They Have Been Dead For Centuries Or Because They Spoke Languages You Cannot Understand. And, Nonetheless, They Have Become Your Closest Friends, Your Wisest Advisors, The Wizards That Hypnotize You, The Lovers You Have Always Dreamed Of. -antonio Munoz Molinas, "the Power Of The Pen

If You Take A Book With You On A Journey," Mo Had Said When He Put The First One In Her Box, "an Odd Thing Happens: The Book Begins Collecting Your Memories. And Forever After You Have Only To Open That Book To Be Back Where You First Read It. It Will All Come Into Your Mind With The Very First Words: The Sights You Saw In That Place, What It Smelled Like, The Ice Cream You Ate While You Were Reading It... Yes, Books Are Like Flypaper—memories Cling To The Printed Page Better Than Anything Else.

I Love To Read Aloud.